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THE CHAIR-PULPIT; 



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By NEIL FOREST. 



-♦♦♦- 



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NEW YORK: j 
NELSON & PHILLIPS, 

CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. 

8UNDAY-SCHOOL DEPARTMENT. 







of Congress 
washington 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18T3, by 

NELSON & PHILLIPS, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



INTRODUOTORY. 




^EIL FOREST is a preacher, and 
yet she never preaches in the or- 
dinary way. She does not go 
into the church-pulpits, but on Sabbath 
morning sits in the pew with her chil- 
dren. In the evening, however, when 
the little ones gather about her easy-chair 
at home, she does preach sweet little 
sermons, so simple that the smallest of 
the home-congregation can understand 
her, and so practical that all through the 
week they recall her words of illustration 
and instruction. Says Minnie, the home 
pet, "Mamma isn't a church-preacher, 



4 INTRODUCTORY. 

she's a home-preacher ; she doesn't go into 
the churck-pulpit, but preaches from her 
chair-pulpit." 

Here are some of her sermons. They 
are wise and good, and don't seem like 
" real dry sermons " at alL 

The Editor recommends them to young 
readers, and suggests that they may be 
" preached over again " in many a home 
to the profit of little people. 

J. H. Y. 



CONTENTS, 



-♦- 



Page 
I. My Puzzle 1 

II. Loving-Kindness 25 

III. Faith and Prayer 42 

IV. Fearing God 59 

Y. The Tongue *73 

VI. Reward 84 



THE 



CHAIR-PULPIT. 



I. 

MY PUZZLE. 




|HEN I was little, I was much 
puzzled to know how I could 
keep God's Commandments. It 
seemed to me they were all made for 
grown-up people. But I had learned in 
the Bible that " even a child is known 
by his doings." So I saw that I must do 
my best, and as I really wanted to serve 
God, but did not know how, I was often 
perplexed and anxious. 



8 The Chair-Pulpit. 

I will tell you how I used to feel. My 
greatest trouble was about Sunday. I 
understood well enough the command- 
ment about keeping it holy. But how 
was I to do so ? I had been told that I 
ought to love it, but I had to confess to 
myself that I did not. It was a very long, 
hard day to me, and I was sorry when it 
came and glad when it was over. Once 
my teacher at school asked all my class 
which day of the week we loved the best. 
We all answered together, " Saturday ! 
because it's a holiday ! " 

This was truthful, but not satisfactory, 
for she expected us to say Sunday. I 
think it was much better for us to speak 
the truth, even if it was unexpected. But 
I was sorry to think I could not say Sun- 
day. I wanted to love Sunday. I thought 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 9 

to myself, "I would if I could." I re- 
membered that the commandment was to 
keep the Sabbath day holy, and nothing 
was said about loving it, which was a 
comfort to me ; for if I had been forced 
to love it, I should have thought I was 
breaking the commandment. For I felt 
sure I never could love it while I was 
little, and had to sit still in church and 
behave so very well, and not play, nor run 
races, nor read fairy stories. I used to go 
to church and learn hymns, and read my 
Bible ; but, O, how long the day was to 
me! 

We always had a very good breakfast 
Sunday mornings, and I was allowed a 
cup of weak coifee, which was a great 
treat. This was pleasant, but it did not 
last long. After breakfast, I used to look 



10 The Chair-Pulpit. 

out of the front window into the street 
and watch the people hurrying past to 
church. Bridget, our cook, would come 
out hastily from the area and start off on 
a quick, short trot, fearful of being late. 
She always wore her best green dress, 
with her blue bonnet, and her red plaid 
shawl turned right side out. On week- 
days the shawl was always worn wrong 
side out, and this was in order to keep it 
fresh for Sunday. I often wished I could 
be turned for Sunday, like the shawl. 
But it seemed to me I was brighter and 
better all the week than I ever was on 
Sunday. I felt wrong side out all day 
long. 

In church I tried to follow the service, 
and when the minister read any of the 
stories out of the Bible I loved to listen; 



The Chair-Pulpit. 11 

but often he read what I could not under- 
stand, and then I tried to amuse myself 
by thinking. 

I wondered if the other children in 
church liked it any better than I did. I 
wondered why the old gentleman who sat 
in front of me tied his scanty gray hair 
with a little bit of white thread and 
brushed it all forward toward his fore- 
head. Did he think it concealed the fact 
that he was bald ? Well, it didn't! Any 
one could see that he was bald just as 
well as not ! I wondered if the pretty 
girl who sat next to him (and who was 
his daughter) tied it for him, or maybe 
the old lady, his wife, did. Why didn't 
they tell him it was no use? 

The pretty girl wore pink roses in her 
bonnet, and her hair-pins always fell out 



12 The Chair-Pulpit. 

at some time during the service. I used 
to watch them gradually working loose in 
her thick brown braids until they drop- 
ped, sometimes into her pew and some- 
times into ours. She wore tinkling gold 
earrings and pretty ribbons, and I liked 
to look at her, but thought she was a 
careless girl, and wondered why the old 
lady didn't scold her and make her fasten 
her hair-pins better. Then I would be 
ashamed of my idle thoughts and think, 
" This is no way to keep the Sabbath day 
holy/' 

I used to try and sing when the choir 
did, until the old lady who sat behind 
me tapped me on the shoulder and said, 
«>Sh— 'sh." Then I knew I had been 
singing incorrectly, but I thought " It is 
not my fault ; I sing the tune right, but 



The Chair-Pulpit. 13 

the rest of them put in so many little 
curlykeios they put me out." So I was 
quite discouraged, and gave it up. 

The sermon was a great trial to me. I 
tried to keep quiet and listen, but I never 
did understand it. So I would begin to 
think again. " Suppose I had a hundred 
dollars, how would I spend it?" Some- 
times I felt quite worldly, and would lay 
it all out in gold earrings and pretty rib- 
bons and handsome dresses for my mother, 
and magnificent horses and watches and 
diamond studs for my father. (For I 
thought a hundred dollars could buy 
every thing.) 

At other times I would devote it to 
the missionary cause ; but I generally pre- 
ferred to see the results of my generosity, 
and fancied nice warm shawls for the 



14 The Chair-Pulpit. 

poor colored women who sat all by them- 
selves in one corner, or toys for the charity 
children, or dresses for the sexton's wife 
and the servants at home. 

I found so many ways of spending it 
that I kept tolerably quiet through the 
long sermon. But, after these glorious 
imaginings, how pitiful it seemed to put 
only one cent into the plate when it was 
handed to me. Yet one cent was one 
third of my weekly income. 

How glad I was when the minister pro- 
nounced the blessing! Not because of 
the blessing — I felt that / had nothing to 
do with that, because I had been naughty 
and inattentive — but because church was 
over, and I could stretch my tired limbs, 
that were so tired. 

Do you think I was naughty? Have 



The Chair-Pulpit. 15 

you ever felt as I did? I believe you 
have, for children are very much alike. 
Now that I am older I do not think I was 
naughty. I know how very hard it is for 
little ones to sit still so long and listen to 
what they cannot understand. 

Perhaps you would like to ask, " Then 
what is the use of making us go to church 
while we are little? " I will tell you one 
reason. Because you acquire the habit 
of going, which, if you neglect while you 
are young, you will hardly be able to 
take up when you are old. I do not say 
it would be impossible, but I have always 
noticed that the steady church-goers are 
those who were taught to go as little 
children. 

Perhaps you will not altogether believe 
me when I say, if you always go to church 



16 The Chair-Pulpit. 

while you are little you will grow to love 
it, and never want to stay away when you 
are older. Don't you believe me? I 
think that is so. At any rate, it was so 
with me, and I will tell you how I found 
it out. 

When I was nearly twelve years old I 
was sent, for the summer, to a very lovely, 
hut also very lonely, country place where 
there was no church. At first I thought 
I should like this, but I soon found out 
my mistake. When Sunday came and 
there was no church-bell ringing, and 
nobody put on a Sunday dress, and there 
was no difference between that morning 
and any other, I began to feel uncomfort- 
able. Those around me did just what 
they were in the habit of doing on week- 
days ; for, if there is no church to go to, 



The Chair-Pulpit. 17 

people soon forget to keep the Sabbath 

day holy. I was at liberty to do as I 

chose, but I did not enjoy it. Something 

within me said, "Remember the Sabbath 

day to keep it holy." I took my Bible 

and my hymn-book and walked away to 

a little brook, and sat down under the 

shady trees and tried to read. I did read 

quite a long time, and then went back to 

the house again and found it was only 

ten o'clock ! Why, I thought it was 

afternoon, the time had seemed so long. 

It was almost church-time at home. O 

how I wished I could be there ! I thought 

how pleasant it was at home on Sunday 

mornings, when I got myself ready and 

went to church with my parents ; and I 

wondered why I had ever thought it dull 

and the day long. It was a great deal 

2 



18 The Chair-Pulpit. 

duller and longer here ! I would have 
given a great deal then to be able to go 
to church. I missed it. I felt homesick 
and dreary. O how hard it seemed to 
me to keep that Sabbath holy ! I wanted 
to hear our minister's voice, reading and 
praying, and the congregation singing ! 
I felt as if I was at the very ends of the 
earth ; and although I had been four days 
in the place, without one homesick feel- 
ing, now that this Sunday had come, 
which was no Sunday to me, I felt 
wretched, and longed for home and for 
church. 

I did not know before that I had loved 
church ; I began to think now that I did. 
Perhaps some of you want to say, " Why 
didn't you play and swing, and have a 
good time, since nobody hindered you?' 5 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 19 

O ! dear children, when once we know 
w T hat is good, we cannot love any thing 
else. Suppose instead of your nice warm 
clothing you had been brought up to 
wear thin, torn, dirty clothes ; instead of 
your pleasant, bright, warm rooms, you 
had spent jonv life in cold, dark, dreary 
hovels ; instead of loving friends, and re- 
fined associations, you had only been used 
to hard, coarse, brutal treatment, and 
seen only wickedness and vice! Would 
you be happy ? No indeed ! You would 
be wretched, though how wretched you 
might not know, not being used to any 
thing better. 

But suppose that you were taken now 
from your lovely homes and placed among 
such scenes, and, knowing what it is to 
be warm, should always be cold; never 



20 The Chair-Pulpit. 

before* having felt hunger, should now al- 
most starve; always accustomed to kind 
words, should now be beaten and scolded ? 
Would not that be too dreadful even to 
think about ? Would not the memory of 
all you had enjoyed make your condition 
seem ten times harder than if you had 
never known better? I think so. You 
are accustomed to what is good, and can- 
not like what is not so. 

Now it is exactly so with our souls. 
When we have been taught to worship 
God, and are accustomed to go to his 
house ; when we have heard the blessed 
words of love, and promises of happiness 
read from the Bible ; when we have grown 
familiar with the songs, the prayers, and 
the customs of a Christian congregation, 
we cannot be contented with the silly 



The Chair-Pulpit. 21 

book, the foolish words of idle people, the 
wicked jests, the wild song, the disregard 
of God's dav. 

I had been taught better, therefore I 
could not play on Sunday, though I was 
told I might. I knew what was lioly, I 
could n,ot choose what was not. If I had 
stayed for a long time in that lonely 
place, I dare say I should have become 
quite used to living without the Sabbath ; 
indeed, I have no doubt it would have 
come disagreeable to me to bear the re- 
straint of church, and probably, little by 
little, I should have lost my tenderness 
of conscience, and forgotten entirely to 
keep the Sabbath day holy. But would 
I have been happier ? No indeed ! 

Would you be happy if you got used to 
freezing and starving ? There is such a 



22 The Chair-Pulpit. 

thing as getting used to hardships. The 
poor children we often see in the streets 
are in a manner used to their wretched 
lives. But are they happy ? I'm afraid 
not, indeed ! 

In the same way, if you neglect the 
habit of church-going, you lose your 
relish for it. Your soul becomes dull. 
But if you go constantly, your soul be- 
comes active, you enjoy it, and after 
awhile cannot willingly stay away. 

Now, children, which is best, a good 
habit or a bad one ? I think you will all 
agree with me and answer • - a good one." 
If so, then you see one reason for going 
to church. Even if you do not under- 
stand much of the service. 

Let me tell you something that perhaps 
you have never thought about. Every 



The Chair-Pulpit. 23 

time you conquer your impatience in 
church you are really and truly serving 
God. Perhaps you do not think it is do- 
ing much to sit still, and not pull your 
mamma's dress and say, " When will 
church be over?" But it is doing a 
great deal. If you can keep quiet be- 
cause you know you are in God's house, 
and it pleases him to be worshiped ear- 
nestly, then you are truly worshiping him, 
even if you have not understood a single 
word. I do not suppose the little chil- 
dren whom the dear Lord took in his 
arms and blessed knew that they were 
coming to God, when their mothers 
brought them. They were very little, 
only old enough to know they must obey 
their parents and come when they were 
called. Yet because they did this they 



24 The Chair-Pulpit. 

were blessed. When yon sit still and are 
patient, you are doing as much as you 
know how to do, and Jesus will bless 
you. 

Little by little, and only as you can 
learn easily, his Holy Spirit will teach 
your hearts, so that you shall understand 
more and more of his love. And the 
more you learn, the more you will love 
him. You will love God's house and 
God's words, you will love to sing his 
praise and to pray to him ; you will love 
God's day ; yes you will, though you do 
not think so now, and God will love you 
forever and forever. For this is written 
in the Bible : 

"If ye keep my commandments, ye 
shall abide in my love." 



The Chair-Pulpit. 25 



II. 

LOVING-KINDNESS. 




JE ye kind one to another, ten- 
der-hearted, forgiving one an- 
other ; even as God, for Christ's 
sake, has forgiven you." 

Here is a text that seems to be the very 
one for children to learn. Do you want 
to know why I think so ? Because chil- 
dren have a great many little troubles of 
their own, and they generally come from 
a want of forgiveness, or because those 
around them are not always tender- 
hearted and kind. 

Did you ever accidentally tread on 
your big brother's toe, and hear him 



26 The Chaik Pulpit. 

say, " Go along ! you little awkward 
thing, you've hurt me dreadfully ; you're 
always in the way ? " Were you ever 
very much interested in a new story 
book, while your little sister kept teasing 
you all the time? Did you shut your 
book and answer her gently, or did you 
say, " Can't you hush up, you little 
plague ? " If these things have ever 
happened to you, then you know what 
I mean. How did you feel when your 
brother was cross to you ? Did you like 
it ? How did your little sister feel when 
you were cross to her ? Did she like it ? 

Perhaps you say, "I don't care!" 
Ah ! but you do care ! How do I 
know? Because, once upon a time, a 
long while ago, I was a child myself, and 
I remember just how I used to feel when 



The Chair-Pulpit. 27 

any one was cross to me. I used to say 
I didn't care, but I did, for way down in 
the bottom of my heart there was a little 
ache. O yes ! I cared a great deal, and 
so do you. 

I had a story book about Charlie Sey- 
mour, a little boy who had to choose 
which of two aunts he would live with. 
One aunt was very rich, and gave him 
all he wanted, but she was cross; and the 
other aunt was poor, and had to deny 
him a great many things he wanted, but 
she was kind. And he chose to live 
with her and be poor, because he was so 
much happier with her. All the play- 
things in the world could not make him 
happy while he was scolded so much; 
but he could be as cheery as possible 
without toys when he was kindly and 



28 The Chair- Pulpit. 

gently treated. I was always glad ho 
went with the kind aunt. You may be 
very sure we are all a great deal happier 
when those around us are tender-hearted, 
forgiving, and kind. 

Once there was a very wise man, who 
thought a great deal. A friend came to 
him one day and asked why he was so 
sad. " There are a million people in this 
citv " said he, " and all of them are ras- 
cals." This was so very sad that the 
friend began to get melancholy too. But 
he had one thought, and he thought it 
out loud, " Be a saint yourself," said he, 
"and then, at least, there will be one 
rascal the less in the city." 

Now I have no doubt, as you read 
about unkind people, you can remember 
a great many who are cross. But never 



The Chaie-Pulpit. 29 

mind about them. Be kind yourself, and 
there will be one cross-patch the less in 
this world. 

I wonder how many ways there are of 
beiii^ unkind! I have never counted. 
But I think if we began to count all our 
fingers, thumbs and all, backward and 
forward, over and over again, we could 
not begin to add that sum ; and O what 
a drearv, dreadful sum it would be ! 
Worse than any in the arithmetic book, 
though they are quite bad enough. 

So we will not try to do that. But we 
will begin another sum. It's just as long, 
but a great deal pleasanter. There are 
just as many ways of being kind as there 
are of being unkind. 

If we begin now, and try to find out 
one or two of these ways, it will be a good 



30 The Chair-Pulpit. 

thing to do for Sunday. I have already 
spoken of one way. To be patient, is to 
be kind. It is not easy to be patient. 
When we are feeling a little sick, or a 
little sad, or when we are very much in- 
terested in a play or a book, or even 
when we are studying our lessons, it is 
very trying to *be interrupted constantly. 
It seems, sometimes, as if we must say 
something sharp. But if we don't, and 
if we can just keep our temper down, 
and speak gently, then we have obeyed 
this commandment in the Bible — to be 
kind. 

To learn to feel sorry for the troubles 
of others is to be kind. Almost every 
body has some little thing or other that 
troubles him, and if he can tell it to a 
dear, loving friend, it makes him a great 



The Chair-Pulpit. 31 

deal happier. If you have been unjustly 
treated by somebody, or if you missed in 
your lesson at school, or if you have a 
toothache, does it not make you feel better 
to tell somebody and get petted, and have 
him love you and comfort you, and say he 
is sorry for you? Even if people cannot 
help you any other way, it is pleasant to 
know they would if they could. 

Now sometimes when we have such 
troubles ourselves, they seem like very 
great ones ; but when other people have 
them, they seem like very trifling affairs. 
So it is always well to stop and think, 
"How do I feel when this happens to 
me ? " When you remember how you 
felt, then go and say loving words to your 
friends. Say just what you would like 
to have said to you. There are some 



32 The Chaik-Pulpit. 

troubles that can't be cured. I knew a 
dear little boy who had the hip disease. 
Nobody could cure him. But O, how 
much happier his short life was, because 
of the loving-kindness of a dear aunt, and 
the gentle, kind words of a few children 
who felt sorry for him !- 

A word of love is sometimes the only 
comfort one can find ; but it is a very 
great comfort. So, you see, to feel for 
others is to be kind. This is being tender- 
hearted, too. 

There is another way of being kind. 
Never make fun of any body. It's a very 
good rule to laugh with others, but never 
laugh at them. I have known children 
who thought they were bright w T hen they 
ridiculed others. But I think that's a 
very poor kind of fun indeed ; and I don't 



The Chair-Pulpit. 33 

believe any good, hearty, merry laughter 
ever came yet from such fun. 

I have known a poor Irish servant-girl 
made very wretched by ridicule from chil- 
dren. She came to America all alone, to 
get a living, and she tried to send money 
home to her old mother, who was bitterly 
poor. She did not know how to work in 
the way servants do in America, but she 
was willing and anxious to learn. She 
wanted to please, and when she made 
mistakes she tried hard to find out the 
right way, so as not to do so again. But 
the children in the house made fun of her, 
and laughed and joked about her, and 
never stopped to think that what they 
called fun was great pain to her. Poor 
girl ! Her face would grow as red as a 
rose, and great tears would stand in her 



34 The Chair-Pulpit. 

eves, but the children did not see this. 
They might have seen it, but they had 
not learned to be kind and tender- 
hearted. 

Now don't you suppose if they had 
been kind to her she would have gone on 
trying harder and harder to please them, 
and she would have been happy as she 
worked, and her face would be bright, 
and she would have written home cheer- 
fully to her old mother ? But instead of 
this she was first very sad, and when she 
wrote home she said in her letter : 

" It's grievin' and frettin' I am, dear 
mother : I'm lonelv and forlorn in this 
New World." 

How these sad words made her moth- 
er's heart ache, far away in Ireland, where 
she could not comfort her poor lonely 



The Chair-Pulpit. 35 

child. To the children she was " Green- 
horn Biddy ; " but to her mother she was 
a poor lonely child in a strange land, with 
no one to say a kind word to her. So 
there were two sad hearts, instead of two 
happy ones, and all because of a few 
little children who had not learned to be 
kind. 

Worse than this ! poor Biddy got dis- 
couraged. Every body called her stupid, 
every bod} 7 " ridiculed her, and, even when 
she did her best, no one seemed pleased. 
So after awhile she grew sulky and cross ; 
and instead of a happy, nice girl, Biddy 
became sullen and disagreeable. Think 
what those children did with their wicked 
ridicule. 

I knew two little Spanish girls who had 
to leave school because the other girls in 



36 The Chair-Pulpit. 

their class made fun of their bonnets. 
They came to school, hoping to find 
friends, and ready to love all their school- 
fellows. But they were sensitive and shy, 
and were made so wretched by the un- 
kind ridicule of their class that their 
parents took them away. I dare say all 
those children excused themselves by say- 
ing, " Why ! we were only in fun ; we 
didn't think. " Ah ! but they ought to 
have thought. To be thoughtful is to be 
kind. 

I wish I had time to tell you a great 
many other ways of being kind and tender- 
hearted ; but as I have not, I will mention 
just one more. This is a very important 
one: Never to think evil. Very little 
children are not apt to think evil of each 
other; it is a fault that comes with years, 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 37 

but it comes so very soon that it is well 
to guard against it. 

A little girl was asked to lend a book 
to another little girl. She colored and 
said, " I can't, but I would like to." The 
one who asked turned away and said, 
"Just like her; stingy girl, she's always 
mean about her things ! " 

Now that was thinking evil. The child 
spoke the truth when she said she could 
not lend the book, for her mother had told 
her not to do so. It made her sorry to re- 
fuse her friend, but she had to obey her 
mother. 

A boy was hissed at in school because 
he said he could not give a dollar to the 
subscription that his class had made to 
present their teacher with a silver pitcher 
at Christmas. The boys called him mean. 



38 The Chair-Pulpit. 

They said he was a miser, and tormented 
him dreadfully about it. The truth was, 
that he was a brave boy. He knew how 
hard his parents worked that he might be 
respectably educated ; he knew that if he 
gave that dollar his mother would save 
it out of something she needed for herself, 
for they were really poor. He preferred 
bearing the ridicule of his class to seeing 
his mother denv herself; but O ! how it 
hurt this generous child to be called a 
miser, to be so misjudged by those he 
had thought were his friends. The 
trouble was, that they thought evil of 
him. If we could only see into each 
other's hearts, how much kinder we 
should all be. It is so much better to 
think well of our friends. Did you ever 
put on green spectacles? How green 



The Chair- Pulpit. 39 

every thing is through them! If you 
get the habit of thinking evil, every body 
looks hateful and unlovely. Don't wear 
dark spectacles when you look at your 
friends. Use the kind, clear eyes that 
come from the Lord, and all the world 
will be bright to you. To think no evil 
is the very greatest kindness. 

Have you ever heard of the Eleventh 
Commandment? I dare say you know 
it. It was given us by our dear Lord 
Jesus just before he died. He said, "A 
new commandment I gave unto you, That 
ye love one another." If you read your 
Bible carefully, you will see that Jesus 
said this very often just before he died. 
I think he knew what it was to live with- 
out love in this world. I think he knew 
how happy a place the world would be 



40 The Chajr-Pulpit. 

if we all loved each other ; how dreary a 
place it was without love. He felt sorry 
for us. He was going back to heaven, 
and we could never see him on earth, nor 
hear his loving words, and know that 
Love itself was with us. So he gave us 
this commandment, " That ye love one 
another ; " and then he added, " By this 
shall men know that ye are my disciples, 
if ye love one another." 

O what an easy thing it ought to be to 
love one another! Think what a glorious 
thing it is to be a disciple of the Lord 
Jesus, and to live with him hereafter 
in heaven ! If we are his disciples we 
shall do this. What an easy thing it is 
we are told to do to prove ourselves his 
disciples — only to love one another ! It 
should be easy, surely. If it is not, it is 



The Chair-Pulpit. 41 

because we are not yet like our loving 
Lord. But we will try to be, wont we, 
little ones? And the nearer we draw to 
him, the easier it will be for us to obey 
his commandment, and we shall become 
kind and tender-hearted, and we shall 
find what comfort and peace there is in 
loving one another. 



42 



The Chair-Pulpit. 



III. 
FAITH AND PRAYER. 




ONCE knew a little girl who had 
been told that if she prayed to 
God she would receive whatever 
she asked for. So she prayed night after 
night for a new doll's head. This was 
what she most wanted, for her dear doll 
had been without a head for a month, 
and she lay in her cradle with her best 
ruffled night-gown on, her hands crossed 
over her breast ; but as she had no head, 
of -course she could not be interesting in 
any way. The little girl could not even 
play she was dead, because, as she said, 
" Even dead people have heads." 



The Chair-Pulpit. 43 

So she was very unhappy about hei 
doll, and as nobody gave her a new head, 
or money with which to buy one, she 
thought she would pray to God, and see 
if it was true that he would send her 
whatever she asked for. Night after 
night she prayed, u Please give my dolly 
a new head," and yet the next morning 
there lay the poor doll still headless in 
her cradle. 

So after awhile she became discour- 
aged, and said, " It isn't true that God 
hears us when we pray, because I've 
asked him over and over again, and I 
don't get what I want. I wont pray any 
more for any thing." 

Now this little girl had a dear aunt, 
who happened to hear her say this, and 
she bought her doll a beautiful new head 



44 The Chair-Pulpit. 

with real hair, which made the child very 
happy, and I'm sure you are glad to 
know that she was so, and perhaps you 
will be more interested in hearing about 
the doll than in what I am going to tell 
you. But I want you to read what I 
have to say, because, although it is not a 
story, you may perhaps like it, and chil- 
dren can think as well as grown people, 
and do not need story books all the time. 

A little child's idea of prayer is, " I 
shall have just what I want." This is 
not the right idea. I do not mean that 
it is wicked ; O no, it is only incorrect. 
A little child cannot understand much 
more than its own wishes. But as it 
grows older, it reasons in this way : 

"I have been told to pray to God for 
what I want ; I have prayed, and I havent 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 45 

got it. Is that because I didn't pray in 
the right way, or because God does not 
hear me ? If I don't pray right, I wish I 
knew how; it would be so nice to have 
all 1 want." And then the little mind 
wanders off to fairy tales, and remembers 
about the purse of Fortunatus, and the 
beautiful dress and coach of Cinderella, 
and all the lovely things that happened 
in those stories to people who only had 
to wish for them. And this, they think, 
is what ought to happen to them if they 
pray. 

But, children, this is not the way to 
think about prayer. We are not princes 
and princesses in a fairy tale, with fairy 
godmothers who fly about with wands, 
and sometimes turn us into swans, and 
sometimes into toads, just as they please, 



46 The Chair-Pulpit. 

and load us with beautiful presents, or 
keep us in dark dungeons. No, indeed ! 
I'll tell you what we are, and you will 
see how different a thing real life is from 
life in a fairy story. 

We are the dearly -loved children of an 
Almighty God. The great God who 
made heaven and earth, who knows 
every thing, who is every-where, whose 
will is law for all things, whose power is 
supreme, whose works are wonderful be- 
yond all telling, this Almighty God calls 
us his children; he watches over us, and 
protects ns, gives us his love before we 
ask for it, or even know about it, and, 
having placed us in this world, promises 
to give us all we need (not all we want) 
if we will love him and try to serve him. 

But God does not promise us that all 



The Chair-Pulpit. 47 

our wishes shall be grafted. We often 
wish for very foolish things, and for 
things that are not good for ns, which, if 
they were given to us, would make us 
very unhappy. 

And we often have very idle and selfish 
wishes. A child who wants to go on a 
picnic wishes for a bright sunny day, 
and perhaps the child's father longs for a 
pouring rain to water his garden, which 
is scorching in the heat. Suppose both of 
them prayed to God, one for sun, the 
other for rain ; of course one would be 
disappointed, and probably impatient, or 
discouraged, and might say, " If that's all 
I get by praying I wont pray again." 
And the one who was pleased might feel : 
" God loves me the best, because he 
granted my prayer." 



48 The Chair-Pulpit. 

Don't you see how selfish this would 
be, and how dangerous, because the very 
next time they prayed and were disap- 
pointed they would think that God had 
forgotten them, or was angry with them, 
and had not granted their prayer for this 
reason. So all the time somebody would 
be either too much depressed or too much 
elated, and our minds would be in confu- 
sion constantly. 

Now let us see if we can find out what 
prayer ought to be. We will look at the 
life and prayers of our Saviour, for he is 
our example in all things. We know 
how little he had of this world's pleasure. 
He was poor, he was homeless, he was 
often hungry, often sad. And yet we 
know that he often prayed, for the Bible 
says so. He was in the habit of leaving 



The Chair-Pulpit. 49 

his disciples and going away all alone to 
pray. We must remember that he was 
G-od's own dear Son, and that God would 
surely answer his prayers. So it must be 
that our dear Lord never prayed for what 
would make him happy and comfortable 
in this world ; his prayers must have been 
for something very different. 

When his disciples asked him to teach 
them to pray he did, and the prayer he 
gave is the one we call the Lord's Prayer, 
and little children often call it " Our 
Father." You all know it, and can re- 
peat it, I have no doubt. It is written in 
the sixth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel, 
and is part of the Sermon on the Mount. 
What does this prayer ask for ? Does it 
say, " Give me all I want ? " " Let me 

have every thing I ask for ? " No, indeed ! 

4 



50 The Chair-Pulpit. 

It does ask God to give us what we need. 
We need daily bread, and it asks for 
daily bread, which means all that is nec- 
essary for us to keep us alive. But it 
does not ask for more than this. This 
w r as all that Jesus had. Daily bread was 
enough for the Son of God when he was 
on earth, surely it should be enough for 
us. We may pray to God to give us what 
we need. 

All the rest of the prayer is asking for 
things that will help to make us holy 
while we live on earth, and fit to live in 
heaven when we die. Then there must 
be the right things to pray for. There is 
another sentence in it which says : 

" Thy will be done." 

What does this mean % Why, that no 
matter what we want, if God thinks it is 



The Chair-Pulpit. 51 

best for us to be without it, it is best. We 
would rather that God, who is so loving 
to us should do just what he sees best for 
us whether we want it or not. It was in 
this way St. Paul prayed. He had some- 
thing the matter w T ith him, something that 
distressed him, I do not know what; some 
have thought that his eyes were afflicted ; 
but whatever it was, it caused him very 
great sorrow and pain. He says that he 
prayed to God three times that this pain 
should be taken away from him. But 
God did not grant that prayer, even to 
St. Paul, who was a good and holy man. 
This was not because God did not love 
St. Paul, for he did love him, and had 
changed him from being a wicked man 
into one of the noblest and best of men 
that ever lived. 



52 The Chair-Pulpit. 

Perhaps you think that God would have 
answered his prayer, and taken away his 
pain. But no! For some reason, which 
God only knew, it was best for him to 
bear that sorrow, and he let him bear it, 
and St. Paul stopped praying to have it 
taken away, because he saw it was God's 

will that he should suffer from it. God's 
grace was sufficient for him. God gave 
him strength to be patient under the suf- 
fering, and that was enough for St. Paul, 
w T ho remembered that part of the Lord's 
Prayer which said, a Thy will be done." 
St. Paul was so sure of God's love that he 
was willing to have just what God saw 
best to send him, whether it was sorrow 
or joy. He knew God was right, and he 
submitted to his trial. 

I think if any little children who are 



The Chair-Pulpit. 53 

sick, or who have some great affliction, 
like deafness, or lameness, or blindness, 
hear this about St. Paul, it might help 
them to bear their trouble. If they can 
feel that God loves them truly and ten- 
derly, they will be willing to believe that 
it is the best for them to suffer if it is 
God's will they should. There is some 
good reason for it, or God would not 
have permitted it. So instead of pray- 
ing, " Take away this pain," the better 
prayer w r ould be, " Give me grace and 
strength to bear it, and Thy w T ill be 
done." 

But perhaps some of you will think, 
" I don't like that at all. I don't want to 
bear pain. I want to have my own way, 
and to be happy all the time, and have 
nothing but what is good and pleasant." 



54 The Chaik-Pulpit. 

Of course this is what we all want, but 
this is not what is best for us. Did you 
ever see a baby cry to put its hand into 
the flame of a candle ? I have. Mv own 
little baby cried once for that very thing. 
Suppose I had let him burn himself, 
would it have been kind of me? And 
would it have made baby any happier? 
He cried to do it, but how much harder 
he would have cried if I had let him. 
Those poor little blistered fingers would 
have hurt him for days. To be sure he 
would have learned a lesson ; he never 
would have touched fire again ; but then 
I loved my baby too much to want to 
have him learn this lesson by being hurt. 
Every one of his dear little pink fat 
fingers I loved, I couldn't bear to think 
of their being burned, and I took him 



The Chair-Pulpit. 55 

away from the candle, even though he 
cried very, very hard, because I wouldn't 
let.- him. have his own way. 

Don't you think we should all be very 
much like that baby if we insisted on 
having our own way ? Suppose we longed 
and longed for something which God knew 
would hurt lis. Suppose we prayed and 
prayed for it, and fretted and mourned 
and grew gloomy and sad because it was 
not granted ! If God did grant it, it 
might be the very thing that would make 
us wretched ; or, if it even seemed to 
make us happier now, it might keep us 
from growing holy and fit for heaven. 

We live here on this earth a very little 
while, and then we go to another world 
forever and forever. Which is best, to 
have what will make us comfortable now, 



56 The Chair-Pulpit. 

or what will make us happy forever ? 
We cannot have the best of both worlds. 
This one is very lovely, very sunny, and 
very sweet ; but the one to come is lovelier, 
sunnier, and sweeter. I think if we onlv 
knew what was best for us, we should 
ask God to give us now just what would 
make us the most fit for the world to 
come. This is what Jesus taught us to 
pray. And this is what he prayed. 

Shall we dare to say, " My will be 
done," when Jesus has taught us to say, 
"Thy will be done?" We know how 
our Saviour prayed when he was in great 
agony in the garden, just before he died 
that cruel death. " If it be possible," he 
prayed, w let this cup pass from me." 
Jesus knew all he must suffer, and he 
prayed to God that, if it were possible, 



The Chair-Pulpit. 57 

the great agony might be spared. But 
see what comes after this in his prayer. 
"Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou 
wilt." And it was God's will that he 
should suffer, and he suffered. But after 
his prayer and agony, an angel came and 
strengthened him, and he was strong to 
do God's will. 

Now, dear children, this is what I think 
about prayer. It is not given to us to 
get just the good things we want on earth, 
but to teach us how to do without them. 
It is not a way to escape evil, but a way 
which makes us strong to meet evil. 

Do you say, " If I believe this, then I 
don't care to pray ? If I can't have what 
I want, I wont ask for any thing % " 

You may not have what you want, but 
you will have what is best for you. Is 



58 The Chair-Pulpit. 

not that a great deal? Is it not every 
thing ? 

A little one left in a darkened room to 
sleep alone sometimes becomes frightened 
and cries for its mother. It is lonely and 
afraid, though there is nothing to fear. 
It calls, and the mother, hearing the dear 
little voice, hurries to it, and then with 
light and mamma the little one smiles, 
forgets all its fears, and, nestled close in 
those loving arms, sleeps quietly. 

Dear little ones, if ever the world looks 
dark to you, and you get frightened and 
lonely, and almost forget the loving pro- 
tector watching over you, call> call loudly. 
And God will give his light, the loving 
Lord will clasp you closely, and you shall 
rest sweetly, smiling to know that "Un- 
derneath are the Everlasting Arms." 



The Chair-Pulpit. 59 



IV. 
FEARING GOD. 




DO not know how it came to pass, 
but when I was very little I was 

l w afraid of God. Having been told 
to fear God, I understood that I ought to 
be afraid of him. This was a childish 
mistake, but it made me suffer, so I shall 
tell you about it, in case you feel so too, 
and I want you to understand the matter 
better than I did. 

I had learned the text, " Fear God and 
keep his commandments." This was the 
way in which I reasoned : " God can do 
any thing he likes; he can send me to 
hell, he can kill me in one moment if he 



60 The Chair-Pulpit. 

wants to. I wonder if he will ! I'm 
very naughty very often. I get angry 
easily, and when I am so I strike and 
scream. O yes! I'm a very bad child, 
and if God chose he could punish me. 
I'm dreadfully afraid of him ! " 

Was not this a very wrong way of 
thinking about God, who is our loving 
Father, and who loves us all so much 
more than even our earthly parents do ? 
I wonder that I ever felt so ! And if I 
had only had the courage to tell my par- 
ents, I do not doubt thev would have 
taught me better. But I was timid, 
and never told any body. It may be 
there are some little ones who have felt 
just as I did, and if so, this chapter is 
written to them. 

I found out my mistake after awhile. 



The Chair-Pulpit. 61 

I was reading in my Bible one day, and I 
came to these verses in the fourth chapter 
of the First Epistle of St. John : " God is 
love, and he that dwelleth in love dwell- 
eth in God, and God in him. There is 
no fear in love, but perfect love casteth 
out fear, because fear hath torment. He 
that feareth is not made perfect in love. 
We love him because he first loved us." 

I read these verses over and over again, 
and thought, " Then if that is so, I ought 
not to be afraid of God. It certainly says 
very plainly that I sliould love God, and 
I can't love him if I'm afraid of him. It 
is true enough that fear hath torment ; it 
is horrible to feel afraid all the time. 
What does it all mean % If I'm to fear 
God, and yet love him too, and if I can- 
not love him because I'm afraid of him, 



62 The Chair-Pulpit. 

what am I to do? So I puzzled over it a 
great while. The last verse helped me. 
"Why," I suddenly thought, "if God 
loves us before we love him, it may be 
that he loves me now" As soon as I 
thought that I was happier. I had never 
supposed that God really and truly loved 
me, a little foolish child, who was of no 
kind of importance in the world. 

An ant hill was always a great source 
of amusement to me. I loved to watch 
the , little black things running about. 
They seemed so busy about nothing at 
all, yet I had heard that they all worked 
with an object, but as I could not under- 
stand what it was they did, sometimes I 
used to get provoked with them. 

" They are stupid ; they can't sing like 
birds, nor are they pretty like butterflies," 



The Chair-Pulpit. 63 

I would say to myself. " They are use- 
less little black spots; suppose I put my 
foot on them and kill them. Or suppose 
I just kill one. One ant isn't worth any 
thing." (However, I never did this.) 

Now 1 fancied that the world must look 
just like an ant heap from heaven, and all 
the people who went fussing about in it 
just like ants. It couldn't make much 
difference what became of them, and cer- 
tainly one little black spot like ?ne was of 
no possible value, it might just as well be 
killed as not. 

It was because I thought God felt to me 
as I did to the ant that I was afraid of 
him. But just as soon as I began to think 
that God loved me, why that altered the 
case at once ! If he did, then I must be 
of some use ; I must be worth something. 



64 The Chair-Pulpit. 

I was more than a black spot on the sur- 
face of the earth. 

Then it all came into my mind sud- 
denly, all I had been told about Christ's 
death. It was because God loved us so 
that Jesus had come to save us from sin ; 
Jesus, who was God himself, had loved 
us so much that he had died for us. The 
God I had been so afraid of had given his 
own dear Son to die for me, that I need 
not die ! 

If you have ever seen any one kindle a 
fire you know how it is done. The paper 
and the wood and the coal are all laid, 
then the match is put to it, arid, very 
slowly, a little thin curl of blue smoke 
rises; another second and more smoke 
comes, and more and more as the wood 
kindles; then suddenly a bright, clear 



The Chair-Pulpit. 65 

flame darts up, at first just one flash, 
then another, and presently the whole 
bursts into flame, bright, warm, and beau- 
tiful. This was the way it had been with 
my heart. All the time I was afraid of 
God, it was as though my heart were full 
of sour, suffocating smoke, that brought 
tears to my eyes, but no light or warmth. 
The moment the knowledge of God's love 
entered it was like the first bright flash, 
and as I thought 'more and more about 
it, and remembered about Christ the Re- 
deemer, the fire spread, till my whole 
heart flowed. I found at last that to fear 
God was not to be afraid of him. 

To fear God means to be afraid of sin. 
Afraid of doing any thing which may 
separate us from him. In heaven all are 

pure, and good, and holy. Nothing sin- 

5 



66 The Chaik-Pulpit. 

ful can live near God. There will be no 
sinners in heaven. But thousands and 
thousands of souls will be there, that were 
all sinners once. 

Perhaps you would like to ask how 
they could get there. Did they do any 
thing that was very good to make God 
forgive their sins ? They did this : They 
believed that God loved them ; they knew 
that Jesus, his Son, died to save them, 
and thej r asked God, for his dear sake, to 
forgive them. That was enough. Only 
to ask, only to love ! All the glories and 
joys of heaven to be had for love, and for 
the asking ! 

If you wanted any thing very much, 
and knew your mamma w T ould give it to 
you if .you asked her, would you hesitate 
long ! Would you be afraid of her 2 I 



The Chair-Pulpit. 67 

think not, indeed! God loves you very 
much more than your mamma does. Are 
you afraid of him? If you love your 
parents you do not want to grieve them, 
you would rather try to please them. 
That is fearing them, it is fearing to dis- 
please them, not because they might per- 
haps punish you, but because you love 
them too much to make them sad. 

In heathen countries the people do not 
know about God and his love. They 
pray to idols, which are images made of 
wood, or stone. They are dreadfully 
afraid of these idols, and do horrible 
things to please them. Sometimes they 
kill their little children, sometimes they 
cut themselves with knives, and they 
think that is what these idols like. 

I should think they might be afraid of 



68 The Chair-Pulpit. 

such a god ! They have one dreadful 
image called Juggernaut, and sometimes 
they put this idol on a heavy cart and 
draw it about. Then those who want to 
please Juggernaut throw themselves down 
before it, and the great wheels go over 
their bodies and crush them. O what 
a dreadful thing it is to worship such a 
god as that ! I do not wonder they are 
afraid. 

But in this country we know better, 
and so for us to feel so to our God, who is 
so pitiful, loving, and kind to us, is not 
worshiping him. It is being like the 
heathen who know T s no better. 

" But," perhaps some of you will say, 
"God will punish us if we are bad, and 
that's what we are afraid of." This is 
hard to explain to you, but I will try. 



The Chair-Pulpit. 69 

God does not want to punish us. He 
wants us all to be saved, and has made 
the way so easy for us that all may go to 
heaven. But I have told you that nothing 
unholy can live there. If our souls are 
wicked, impure, and bad, how can they 
go where every thing is pure and good ? 
They would not be happy in heaven, they 
could not be. Bad people never like to 
be with good people here on earth, and 
bad souls could not live with good ones, 
so they must go where every thing is bad 
like themselves. 

But no souls need be bad. 

" Why," you say, " we are often 
bad ! " 

Yes, I know you are often naughty; 
every body is naughty once in awhile. 
But you need not stay so. After a little 



70 The Chair-Pulpit. 

while, don't you feel sorry ? I do not 

know you, but I think you do. When 
any one feels sorry for having been bad 
he repents. Sorrow for sin is called 
repentance. If you sin and are sorry, 
then ask God to forgive you for Jesus' 
sake, and lie will. If yon are forgiven, 
then that sin is blotted out. You see you 
need not stay bad. 

I do not mean that if you are afraid of 
being punished, and just kneel down and 
rattle off a prayer without thinking about 
it, that you will be forgiven. You must 
really and truly feel sorry, and be very 
much in earnest when you pray, and re- 
member how the Lord Jesus died that 
that very sin of yours should be forgiven. 
Beg him to teach } 7 ou to be more like 
him, for you know he never sinned, and 



The Chair-Pulpit. 71 

when you ask God to forgive you, say, " for 
Jesus' sake." Nobody has ever prayed in 
this way sincerely without forgiveness. 
God always hears the prayers of those who 
ask in Jesus' name. 

So, you see, if any soul is kept from 
heaven it is because it did not want to be 
pure and good, and never asked God to 
make it so. He has made the way to 
heaven very easy for us. 

Our dear Lord Jesus is the Way. Mer- 
ciful, loving, and tender, he is always 
ready to help us. Do not think because 
you are little that he does not notice you, 
for he knows all about you, all your 
thoughts and wishes, all your faults and 
sorrows, all your joy and all your 
repentance. 

If you ask him to he will lead you 



72 The Chair-Pulpit. 

through life so gently, so tenderly, just as 
a shepherd leads his sheep, carrying the 
little weak ones in his bosom. Is this a 
God to be afraid of? No, dear children, 
for God is Love. 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 73 



V. 

THE TONGUE. 



"And touched his tongue." — Mark vii, 33. 

'"[N the four chapters I have already 
written for you, children, I have 

W told you about being kind, about 
praying, about praising God, and about 
fearing him. Now, in praying, and prais- 
ing, and worshiping we make use of a 
very little member. Do you know what 
it is? 

The tongue ? Yes. It's a little thing, 
is it not? And yet, do you know it is 
about the most important thing in the 
whole world ? How should we get along 
without our tongues? Very badly, I 



74 The Chair-Pulpit. 

think, you'll all agree. But how would 
other people get along without our 
tongues ! O, that's the thing to think 
about ! 

Chatter, chatter, chatter, go the little 
red things all day long in children's 
mouths, until mamma says, "O dear, 
little ones, canH you hold your tongues 
just a little while ? " ISTo, they can't. 
They try, maybe, for a few minutes, but 
then — chatter, chatter, chatter, they go 
again, and never stop till night comes and 
the little mouths and eyes are closed in 
sleep. 

Now the great question is, what is all 
this chattering about? How have the 
tongues behaved themselves ? Have they 
spoken kind, loving words all day long, or 
have they said sharp, cross, angry things ? 



The Chair-Pulpit. 75 

Have they thanked God for his goodness, 
or have they dared to take his holy name 
in vain ? Have they spoken the truth 
always, or have they told lies ? 

The same tongue can do all these 
things. 

Suppose that every night when we went 
to bed we had to have a sharp thorn run 
into our tongues for every naughty word 
it had said all day long. O dear ! O 
dear ! wouldn't some of our tongues be 
like rose-bushes ? I, for one, don't like to 
think about that. 

But do you know that cross, angry 
words prick into our friends' hearts just 
like thorns, and sometimes, when we are 
very bad, we have made others' hearts as 
sore as our tongues would be if they were 
full of thorns ? 



76 The Chair-Pulpit. 

Yes, and moreover, if we have dared 
to lie or to swear, we have wounded our 
own souls. O ! we have pierced them 
through and through, and they are sick 
and so sore that nothing but the loving 
touch of the Great Physician can ever 
heal them again. 

See what mischief we can do ourselves 
and others by using our tongues. But 
we can do good, too. A kind, gentle 
word is as much like the rose as the cross 
one is like the thorn. We can all bring 
roses to our friends to make them happy. 
And when we pray to God, or thank and 
bless him, that is like sunlight falling on 
our souls. We all love sunlight and roses 
better than thorns and sores, I am very 
sure. 

Do you remember that story about the 



The Chaik-Pulpit. 77 

man who had an impediment in his 
speech and came to Jesus to be cured? 
He was not dumb, he had partly the use 
of his tongue, but he spoke in such a way 
as to be very disagreeable to others, I 
dare say, or perhaps, though he could 
make sounds, still his words were so in- 
distinct that no one could understand 
him. Like every one who ever came 
to Jesus, he was cured. The Bible says 
that Jesus touched his tongue, and after 
that he spoke plainly. 

What we all want and need is, that 
Jesus should touch our tongues. Of 
course, I do not mean in just the way in 
which he touched that man's, because we 
know that he is no longer on earth, and 
we cannot go and see him as that man 
did and have him lay his hand upon us. 



78 The Chajr-Pulpit. 

But he is just as truly alive in heaven as 
he was on earth, and whatever we ask 
him to do that will make us pure and 
holy he will do, just as surely as though 
we saw him and he were to touch us 
really and truly. 

If we pray to him very earnestly not to 
let us sin with our tongues, he will help 
us and we will grow careful about what 
we say. If we feel angry all of a sudden, 
and are just ready to say something 
wicked, O, in that moment, if we could 
only remember to say, " Dear Lord Jesus, 
touch my tongue," that wicked word 
would not be spoken. It only takes a 
moment to pray — the thought, as it 
passes through our hearts like a flash, is a 
prayer, and one that is heard. I do not 
mean that if we were to say those words 



The Chair-Pulpit. 79 

without truly feeling them that they 
would be prayer. 

For here is a singular thing. Although 
it is capable of doing so much good and 
so much harm, the tongue is a silly, 
weak little thing, and can't do either 
good or harm all by itself. It acts just 
as the soul tells it to act ; it is servant to 
the soul. If the soul is wicked, the 
tongue is wicked ; if the soul is pure, the 
tongue is pure ; if the soul is weak, the 
tongue is weak. 

Don't you know when the doctor comes 
to see you when you are sick he always 
asks to look at your tongue ? He can tell 
by its appearance what is the matter with 
you. If it looks one way, he says you 
have got the measles; and if it looks some 
other way, he says scarlet fever, or indi- 



80 The Chair-Pulpit. 

gestion, or something else with a long 
name. This is because the tongue is a 
regular tell-tale ! It tells what is the 
matter with the body. By looking at it 
the doctor can tell what ails you. 

But it is by hearing it that others can 
tell what is the matter with the soul. 
Listen to that boy in the street, how 
dreadfully he is swearing ! O, his soul 
is very, very sick, and his tongue tells it. 
Is it so sick, I wonder, because it has 
never been cared for by dear friends ? 
Maybe. For souls and bodies both get 
sick for want of care. I hope some one 
will care for that poor sick soul! Any 
one w T ho heard that wicked oath might do 
so by asking Jesus to touch his tongue. 

Now hear that little child tell a lie be- 
cause it is afraid of punishment 1 O, that 



The Chate-Pulpit. 81 

child's soul is weak ! It does not want to 
be wicked, but it is cowardly, timid, weak. 
See bow the tongue tells what is the 
matter ! 

Do you know how those around you can 
help to strengthen that little soul? By 
being kind to it, patient, and loving ; by 
being gentle and just, never frightening 
it with an angry word or an unjust ac- 
cusation. Children, do you know how 
much you can do in this way toward 
keeping others from sin ? In time, that 
weak soul will grow stronger if it is sur- 
rounded by love, just as a tender plant 
grows more and more vigorous if it is 
kept in the sunshine. Give the little 
weak souls time and love. This is what 
their Maker gives them w r hen, sorry and 

humble, they pray for strength and to be 

6 



82 The Chair-Pulpit. 

forgiven for that sin. The Lord touches 
their tongues ; his Holy Spirit strengthens 
their souls. 

But what shall we say of ourselves 
when, after having known God's love 
and justice toward us, we say harsh, cen- 
sorious, bitter, unkind words of others, 
or ridicule them to bring a laugh from 
thoughtless lips ; when we, by our wicked 
words, stab an absent friend, or sit look- 
ing at one by our side with sunshine 
smiling on our lips, but an angry cloud 
in our hearts, and suddenly strike like 
the lightning with our tongues? What 
can be said of us? Surely, not that we 
have been with Jesus. 

" Never man spake like this man." 
" And all wondered at the gracious words 
that proceeded out of his mouth." 



The Chair-Pulpit. 83 

What shall we say of ourselves? Why, 
that we are miserable sinners. But Christ 
died for miserable sinners. Then, sighing 
and looking up to heaven, let us pray for 
his divine touch. 



84 The Chaie-Pulpit. 



VI. 
REWARD. 

» 

" My Father will love him." — John xiv, 23. 

LITTLE boy once went into a 
toy store to buy marbles; the 



f fw shopman gave him one too 
many. He did not discover this till he 
was nearly home. Then he found out 
that he not only had one too many, but 
that the extra one was an agate. Of 
course, all boys know that agates are 
worth more than common marbles, and 
this boy knew he had only paid for the 
common kind. So it was clearly his 
duty to take back the agate. He had 
been carefully taught what was right and 



The Chair-Pulpit. 85 

what was wrong, and he had also read a 
great many books, in which the good boy 
was always rewarded and the bad boy 
punished. He reasoned in this way to 
himself: " I'll take back this agate be- 
cause it's right to do so, and very likely 
the shopman will say I can keep it for 
my honesty. At any rate, he will praise 
me for being good and honest." 

So he hurried back to the store, and 
arrived there panting and breathless with 
the haste he made, his cheeks glowing, 
and his black eyes as bright as gold but- 
tons. "You made a mistake and gave 
me an agate," said he, handing it to the 
man. 

" O ! did I % " said the man, coolly, and 
taking it from the boy's hand, he popped 
it back into the drawer and went on read- 



86 The Chair-Pulpit. 

ing his newspaper, without further re- 
mark. 

The boy felt as if somebody had thrown 
a glass of cold water in his face. He was 
disappointed, and surprised, and pro- 
voked. " He is a mean man ! " said he, 
leaving the store indignantly. " He 
ought to have given it to me, or at least 
to have praised me ! " And he walked 
home very much out of temper. 

But this circumstance made him think, 
and, after he had thought for awhile, he 
made up his mind that life was not like a 
story-book, and the way to live was not 
with the idea in our heads that we should 
be rewarded for doing our duty. If we 
were to expect to find every one rewarded 
for doing his duty, we should be disap- 
pointed and provoked as that boy was. 



The Chair-Pulpit. 87 

For we often see good people suffering, 
either from sickness, or poverty, or some 
other cause. I think, in some cases, we 
are apt to say, " Why ! how is that ? 
Such good people in such distress! I 
thought they never had to suffer." 

But stop and think a minute. Suppose 
that to be honest, kind, and good brought 
us all the riches of the world — how bard 
we would try to be so, wouldn't we ? All 
the scamps in the world, instead of trying 
to cheat, would all be trying to be honest. 
But why? Because they longed to fit 
themselves for the holy world they hoped 
to go to when they left this one ? O no, 
indeed ! Not at all ! But because they 
want a good time in this world where 
they now are. If being good will bring 
them present pleasure, they will be good. 



88 The Chair-Pulpit. 

If being bad will do it quicker and better, 
they will be bad. 

Do any of you boys think there is any 
thing generous and noble in the boy who 
" swapped off" his jack-knife for your new 
ball? He wants the ball, yon want the 
jack-knife : that's fair enough. But there's 
no particular generosity or nobility about 
that transaction, is there ? You wouldn't 
go home and say, " O, see how good he 
was ! He gave me his jack-knife ! " No, 
indeed ! You would say, " He got as 
good as he gave." 

On your way through the world, if you 
met with perfect success, you would love 
the world more and more ; if you gained 
honor, and wealth, and rank, because you 
did your duty, you would be well content 
never to leave so sunny and serene a life 



The Chair-Pulpit. 89 

But this world is not all we ought to 
want. The one to come will be infinitely 
more bright and beautiful than this. 
That is what we are pressing forward to. 
That is what we are fitting ourselves for. 
If we were content with the pleasures of 
this world, and never cared for our heav- 
enly home, we should be like the In- 
dians, who were willing to sell all 
their beautiful country, with its forests 
and mountains, its streams and hunting- 
grounds, for a few glass beads, looking- 
glasses, bright trinkets, and warm blankets. 
How silly it seems to us, does it not, to 
exchange one for the other ? 

Yet we are sillier far if we are content 
with this world and do not strive for a 
better. But a good many of us are nat- 
urally silly. Therefore, I think it is an ex- 



90 The Chair-Pulpit. 

cellent thing that matters are so arranged 
for us that we do not get quite all we 
want, and are never entirely satisfied; 
that if we do right we learn not to expect 
a reward, and if we do expect one we are 
disappointed. 

There is a higher motive for well-doing 
than a selfish one. Our Saviour said, 
" The Father hath not left me alone, for 
I do always those things that please him." 
This was the object of the Saviour's life — 
to do always those things that pleased 
the Father. Jesus is our example in all 
things. He shows us the way to glorious 
reward. What is this reward ? The love 
and protection of our heavenly Father. 
It is no matter whether we receive an 
earthly reward or not if we have his love. 
O, that is what no one can describe ! 



The Chair-Pulpit. 91 

Perhaps you never stop to think what it 
is to have the love of your earthly father, 
and yet, if he were taken from you, and 
could no longer support you — if you had 
to make your own way in a hard world, 
working early and late, never taking rest 
or pleasure, never having a home to come 
to when you were sick and sad — I think 
you would remember that father's loving 
care and long for it and for all the rest 
and comfort and happiness it gave you. 

Well, now, think for a moment what it 
would be to lose the love of God ! No ! 
we can't think of it — it would be too 
dreadful. To become more and more 
hopeless, more and more wretched, more 
and more lonely, till life goes out, and 
leaves us shuddering alone in the dread- 
ful dark! O the horror, the agony of 



92 The Chair-Pulpit. 

being without the love of God ! We can- 
not think of that ! 

Thank God, we need not, for nothing 
can separate us from that love. 

That love was lonely, that we never 
need be lonely ; it was betrayed, that we 
might never be forsaken ; it was tortured, 
that we might smile ; it was crucified, that 
we might live. It wore a crown of pierc- 
ing thorns, that we might wear crowns 
of light ; it wore the purple robe of scorn, 
that we might walk in white ; it endured 
scoffing, shame, and agony, that we might 
have joy forever. 

Children, why should Jesus — why did 
Jesus do all this for us ? 

Because he loved us. 

Now answer this question, Why should 
we trv and do our dutv as Christ has 



The Chair-Pulpit. 93 

shown to us? I think you will not be 
long in finding the answer : " Because we 
love him." 

Yes ! that is the higher motive I spoke 
of. 

" My Grod, I love thee, not because 

I hope for heaven thereby : 
Nor yet because if I love not 

I must forever die. 
But 0, my Jesus ! thou didst me 

Upon the cross embrace ; 
For me didst bear the nails and spear 

And manifold disgrace. 

11 And griefs and torments numberless, 

And sweat of agony, 
E'en death itself, and all for one 

Who was thine enemy I 
Then why, blessed Jesus Christ, 

Should I not love thee well ? 
Not for the sake of winning heaven, 

Or of escaping hell ; 



94 The Chair-Pulpit. 

11 Not with the hope of gaining aught ; 

Not seeking a reward; 
But as thyself hast loved me, 

ever-loving Lord ! 
Even so I love thee, and will love, 

And in thy praise will sing : 
Solely because thou art my God, 

And my eternal King." 



THE END. 




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